Wanting To Be a “Regular” at Tai Chi
Giving myself the pep talk I’d give my kids. Smile. Try.
I pass the exercise group in the park whenever I walk to my favorite pier. They’re like synchronized flamingos draped in the shade of the hundred-year-old trees. I don’t register their ages, just their methodical movements. Maybe I’ll learn their graceful cadence one of these days.
After a few miles of walking, I google it. What are the benefits of Tai Chi? Turns out, many. Balance, concentration, flow, community. All things I’m searching for in my new home, my new life.
“A body in motion stays in motion.” I repeat my mantra out loud few days later as I lace up my cheerful pink walking shoes. I slip my shiny new community center card into my belt bag (my kids tell me it’s not called a fanny pack anymore)
My husband grabs the golf cart key from the tray by the front door. “I’ll take you. You don’t want to be sweaty on your first day.”
Deflating, I counter. “But I want to walk, I need the…”
“Exercise, I know. You can walk home. Or I‘ll pick you up.” He swings the golf cart key on the lanyard as he heads for the door. “Whatever. It’s really hot out.”
I hit the wall of heat as I leave our house. A quick scoot over in the cart and we’re there. A peck, a wave of thanks, and I head inside the building. I scan my ID. Linoleum tile floors. The smell of disinfectant. A basketball squeaks on the gym floor and then a bottle drops in the vending machine. Universal sights and sounds in a community building.
I feel optimistic as I pass the weight room, an office, the water bottle filler. A man with a binder and intention scoots around and ahead of me. I follow him into the classroom, “Is this Tai Chi?”
“Yes.” He doesn’t look up and continue to fan out the sign in sheets and pens. I feel he may have been a school teacher in a different chapter of his story. I’m ten minutes early and I’ve disrupted his routine. I smooth my hands on my skort. “We’re at week twelve.” He turns and sizes me up. Is he squinting? “Have you done Tai Chi before?”
I feel my eyes widen as I pace my answer. I need this today. “No. I haven’t. But I thought this is a beginner drop-in class. On the class schedule it says…”
“It is, but we’ve progressed.” He’s looking through his official-looking folder. “You should probably start in like three or four weeks when we start again from the beginning.”
Oh.
My face my reveals my middle-age disappointment.
“I can’t. I’ll be…never mind.” I smooth my hands again. I find the standard-issue school clock above his head and watch the minute hand advance toward the class start time. This doesn’t feel very Tai Chi-like. “May I try anyway?”
He straightens a pen. “Sure. You’ll probably just be flailing around…” He perks up. “Oh, hello, George, Jennifer…” The regulars get a smile.
I wait. I open my belt bag and count my singles. “Here.”
“Oh, no. You don’t have to pay.” Dismissed. “You can just….observe. Stay. See if it’s for you.” He points to the folding chairs and continues to greet the regulars.
I look for a familiar face. None. A friendly face. Maybe. I sit on the floor as the others are doing. I flash back to middle school gym class waiting to be chosen for a squad. I hear the ghost of an eraser-colored dodge ball bouncing. Sweat bursts from the back of my neck. The floor is cool to my palms. This is ridiculous. Should I leave?
No.
I re-tie my shoelace. I breathe out. Like yoga. The room fills with people. He’s being a bit of a bully. What would I tell my kids right now?
My mantras return: You got this. This is supposed to be fun. Smile. Try.
A woman and a man talk by the mirror wall. She touches his ear. They look at me. Speak to them. You’re looking for community.
“Hi.” I stand. “So…you’ve done this before?”
She speaks. “We do. Back home.” Chuckles. “Our other home.” She points north. “But it’s our first time here. You?”
“My first time. I’m new. To this and to town.”
“Nice. You’ll do fine. We’re still learning too.” They get into formation.
Okay. Breathe.
So I do. My classmates start to move in slow-motion and beautifully synchronized. I flail a little, my sneaker squeaks, I find myself facing the wrong way. But I also flow. Ninety minutes sift through the hour-glass.
I straighten my shirt. I nod and smile to the couple.
I extend my dollar bills to our teacher who’s back at his lists. “I’d like to pay for the class.” I smooth my fly-away hair.
“Oh. Okay.” He tucks it into his envelope. “You did okay.” Semi-smile.
“Maybe a little flailing… but I enjoyed it.” I grin.
“Good. I hope you’ll come back.”
Leaving the linoleum, I hit the wall of summer sun and heat. You betcha, I’ll be back.
